Well, it's that time of the year again ... and those candy cane aren't going to harvest themselves. Sure, there are scads of elves, but in spite of extensive genetic experimentation they are still too short to do the job (I might mention in passing that all elves hate Randy Newman). So, the old guy goes out to the fields to do the job himself. The air is filled with the clockwork drone of the Hollysaw, and the scent of peppermint permiates everything. It's a solitary job, but by no means an unpleasent one. Better than cleaning out those reindeer stalls, at any rate.
Acrylic on canvas. Would make a nice print, eh?